


Personal Touch

by AgentStannerShipper



Series: tumblr ficlets [34]
Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Christmas, Fluff, Gen, Secret Santa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 00:36:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17457272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AgentStannerShipper/pseuds/AgentStannerShipper
Summary: Eggsy hates the idea that a secret santa at Kingsman is just so...impersonal.





	Personal Touch

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt: “Secret Santa is bullshit.”

“Secret Santa is bullshit,” Eggsy complains, flopping into the empty chair.

“Yes, of course you can come in,” Merlin says sarcastically without even looking up. “It’s not as if I do incredibly dangerous and/or top-secret work in my office. Don’t bother knocking.”

“If you didn’t want people to waltz in, maybe you shouldn’t have left the door unlocked,” Eggsy points out. The only thing on Merlin’s desk right now is a stack of paperwork, so Eggsy figures he’s safe so long as he doesn’t go poking around in it. Not that he would. He gets enough paperwork of his own.

“Christ, you sound like Harry,” Merlin mutters. He rolls his eyes when Eggsy preens, “Believe it or not, I didn’t mean that as a compliment.” He sighs and pushes his chair back from the desk, turning to face Eggsy, “So. What is so terrible about Secret Santa that has you barging into my office to mope?”

“I am not moping,” Eggsy protests. Merlin arches his eyebrows, and Eggsy says, “I’m registering a complaint. ‘S a lot more official than moping.”

“If you say so.”

Eggsy leans forward, “Why do we do it, anyway? I thought Kingsman, spies, not getting attached and shit.”

“It’s a morale builder,” Merlin explains. “Besides, Secret Santa is just another opportunity to refine your skills.”

“Ohhh,” Eggsy says. “It’s a training exercise.”

“I wouldn’t precisely put it like that, but you’re not entirely off base.” Merlin folds his hands in his lap and studies Eggsy over the rims of his glasses. “Why don’t you like it?”

Eggsy shrugs, “Look, me and my mates used to do it, sort of. None of us ever really had the money, so we’d usually nick the stuff, but-“ He looks up sharply and quickly backtracks, “Nothing big, I swear, just little stuff.” Merlin doesn’t look like he’s judging Eggsy, but Eggsy still feels like he’s being evaluated. He always feels like that at Kingsman, even when no one’s watching. Although, if the rumours are true, Merlin is always watching.

Merlin makes a gesture for him to continue, and Eggsy does. “It was personal, you know? We was practically brothers, so we knew what to get each other without even thinking about it. It ain’t like that here. If I’d’a gotten Rox or you, I might have stood a chance. Hell, even with Percy, I could have asked Roxy for help. But I got fucking Tristan, and I don’t know the first thing about him.”

Merlin probably knows everything about every one of the agents, but what he says is, “So get him a bottle of Scotch. Something nice.”

“Nice, maybe,” Eggsy huffs, “but not _personal_.”

“You really care about this, don’t you?”

Eggsy nods. He doesn’t see the point if it’s not personal. Kingsman keeps everyone so detached from each other that, beyond the few small friendships formed largely between mentors and protégés, it’s hard to get to know anyone.

“Crystal ashtray,” Merlin suggests. Eggsy frowns, and Merlin explains, “Tristan is a closet smoker. Almost nobody knows. He and Harry made a bet once when they were on a mission together. Their target was rich, and he smoked, and they bet that whoever could steal the most crystal ashtrays from his house would have to buy the other a drink. I made them put them all back, of course, and it’s been something of a running joke between us ever since. There are a couple of places locally that sell them for fairly cheap, and it has the added bonus that he won’t guess it’s from you.”

“How is that a bonus?” Eggsy asks, although he’s warming up to the idea.

“We’re spies,” Merlin says like it’s obvious. “It’s everyone’s favourite part, trying to figure out who got you your gift.”

Eggsy stands, “Thanks, Merlin. You’re the guvnor.”

“Next time, knock,” Merlin reminds him, but he’s smiling.

Eggsy grins back as he saunters out of the room, “Next time, lock your door.”


End file.
